Many Happy Returns
by justjoy
Summary: Because there is always more than one way to say something, and mean it.


DISCLAIMER: As per usual.

Author's Note: This is dedicated to my friend Crystalscar. Hope you like your birthday present, although I have to admit that I went overboard on the length. Anyway, here goes.

* * *

MANY HAPPY RETURNS

_- greeting usually reserved for birthdays; used as a salutation to offer the hope that a happy day being marked would recur many more times._

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To Matsumoto, there were two kinds of people: those who didn't know her _taichō_, and those who did.

If you asked, the former could probably tell you that the word "happy" would never cross Tōshirō Hitsugaya's lips.

The latter would tell you that even if it did, the word "birthday" wasn't ever going to follow it.

It was a known fact among those familiar with the young _taichō_ that he did not wish anyone "happy birthday".

That was how it had been, and how it would always be. It wasn't because he was really cold and heartless or anything of the sort.

Far from it, in fact – she, along with all the people who knew her _taichō_ well, could attest to the fact that the icy persona that everyone saw was nothing more than a front that he put up to deter others, and a very successful one at that.

Of course, that didn't mean that his real personality was much different. He wasn't the wielder of the most powerful ice _zanpakutō_ in the whole of Soul Society for nothing.

Actually, now that she came to think of it, he really was like ice in some ways – unfailingly smooth and cold to the touch, but still possessing those grooves and cracks that the light shone off like the facets of a sparkling diamond.

Her _taichō_ wasn't all that different from a block of ice after all. Albeit a small one, but still…

Matsumoto snuck a glance at said _taichō_. He was seated at his desk, working tirelessly to finish yet another stack of paperwork. She could see the care with which he inked his brush before moving it to the paper to write in that handwriting that she knew all too well.

Sometimes, she wanted to strangle the idiots who, directly or indirectly, led to the thick bundle of paperwork that sat on both their desks.

Other times, though, she just wanted to strangle her _taichō_ for actually caring about it. Maybe it was just her, but she really didn't see the point in filling in form after form, day after day, when most of the documents would eventually end up in some random place, unseen and unchecked.

Unappreciated.

But that was just how her _taichō_ was, and Matsumoto knew that she wouldn't have it any other way.

And besides, she was getting off topic.

She remembered, all too well, her first birthday after her _taichō_ had become... well, her _taichō_.

They had gone out on a mission together that day to take care of a minor Hollow infestation at the outskirts of the Rukongai – at least, that was what they had been told by the _sotaichō_.

When they got there, however, there was only one Hollow.

It was ridiculously ugly, with tentacles sticking out its back where its hands should have been.

The problem was that it was also by far the strongest one that Matsumoto had ever seen, let alone fought.

Now that she thought about it, the Hollow had probably been quite close to the level of an Arrancar, although it was still nothing if compared to the Espada.

Nevertheless, she had been completely taken back by surprise when she had encountered it all those years ago. After all, they _had_ been only expecting to fight mere lowly Hollows, not such... monstrosities.

Well, she couldn't say the same for her _taichō_, but she definitely hadn't been prepared at all.

So it wasn't surprising when she was the first one the Hollow attacked. She barely managed to draw Haineko in time to fend off the first blow, the force of it nearly causing her to crash into a tree.

Acutally, she would have had, if he hadn't pulled her out of the way in time.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichō." Even back then, when they hadn't known each other well, she could see that he was worried about her. "Are you alright?"

She straightened up, bringing her _zanpakutō_ to the ready. "I'm fine, _taichō_." Suddenly unsure of what to do, she smiled tentatively in his direction. "And thanks."

He merely nodded before turning back to the enemy. In others' eyes, it might have seemed like a dismissal, but Matsumoto knew better.

The Hollow's guttural laugh filled the clearing.

"Finished chatting already? Then get ready, because I'm coming!"

Suddenly, all its tentacles shot into the air, and the pair suddenly found themselves surrounded by three copies of the Hollow, then nine, then twenty-seven… she lost count after eighty-one.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, but somehow she managed to hear every word.

"The tentacles – that's how it duplicates itself. Cut them off."

For the briefest of moments, she wondered how he had realized it that quickly – but then again, he _was_ a child prodigy, so she supposed that it was only to be expected.

There was no doubt in her mind, though, that it was an order, and she did not hesitate to follow it. Haineko dissipated at her command, forming a dense cloud of ash that completely surrounded the enemy even as her _taichō_ released Hyōrinmaru.

Before the multitude of Hollows could even react, their number was halved in a flurry of ice and ash.

Matsumoto wielded her weapon with familiarity, cutting down her enemies in a manner that could almost be considered reckless.

Needless to say, he fought alongside her, a white blur darting effortlessly amongst the enemy's ranks. She knew that he was strong, judging from the sparring sessions that they had gone through; but it was only now that she realized that he had been holding back on her.

Her movements slowed for a brief moment, a mere fraction of a breath. But that was more than enough time for the Hollows to attack her.

The sharp pain of the newly formed wound on her shoulder brought her back to her senses again. She shook her head viciously – now was not the time to doubt her _taichō_, to question him.

He _was_ her _taichō_, damn it, and she was going to put her faith in him, no matter what.

She forced herself to concentrate as the ash solidified into a swirling tornado that swept up everything in its path, and tore the Hollows around her to shreds.

The dust slowly settled to reveal a near-empty clearing.

"Well, well, back to square one, are we now?"

Matsumoto gritted her teeth at the sound of the Hollow's mocking voice, raising her hand to recollect Haineko. She cursed as the movement jostled her hurt shoulder, sending a blinding stab of pain down her arm.

Her eyes flicked to her _taichō_ almost automatically.

He was much better off than she was – she couldn't find any wounds, although he was breathing heavily as he stood, leaning slightly on his _zanpakutō_.

His eyes met hers briefly, though whether it was out of concern or something else, she couldn't tell. It was almost as he had heard her, even though she wasn't anywhere near him.

The Hollow laughed again as it watched the two of them. "I see that none of you were really wounded. Don't worry, I'll rectify that problem immediately!"

She breathed in sharply as the pain that battered her body increased wildly. It felt as if she had been punched in the gut, only about a thousand times worse.

With a soft cry, Matsumoto dropped to her knees, her sword clattering to the ground as she clutched her shoulder. She felt as if every nerve in her body was on fire, leaving her unable to move even an inch.

The edges of her vision started to turn black as she felt the Hollow charge a Cero.

It came flying at her, a sparking ball of red energy.

She struggled to stay conscious, to run, to move, _anything._

Then, suddenly, she heard a yell.

"MATSUMOTO!"

Before she knew it, her _taichō_ was in front of her, Hyorinmaru at the ready.

She wanted to tell him that it was too late, that even he couldn't stop the Cero that was aimed at them, because it was too near, too near –

Then it hit, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut in the blinding brightness.

When her vision cleared, she realized two things – firstly, that she was alive; and secondly, the reason why it was so.

Jagged shards of ice covered the ground where her _taichō_ was, almost hunched over as he coughed violently.

Matsumoto gasped as she saw the blood that stained his white _haori_.

Then her world turned black.

When she woke up, she discovered that she was still at the place where they had fought, though Fourth Division members had arrived, and were tending to her wounds.

A short questioning of the young _shinigami_ healing her confirmed what she had previously suspected – her _taichō_ had, indeed, shielded both of them with the ice wings of the _bankai_. It was the only reason why she was able to come out alive and relatively unharmed.

She stood, carefully, just as her _taichō_ walked up to her.

His clothes were still streaked with blood, and he looked worse for the wear – in fact, Matsumoto thought that the only reason why he hadn't been immediately sent back to the Fourth Division for treatment was his rank. He had probably traumatized the healing team into letting him go after the worst injuries had been healed.

There was a brief moment of silence as they looked at each other.

Her voice cracked when she spoke. "Hitsugaya-taichō, I…"

And suddenly, she was at a loss for words. What did one say to someone who had practically risked their life in order to save your own – thanks?

"Matsumoto-fukutaichō." She was thankful when he cut her misery short. "How are your injuries?"

"Mostly healed. Are you sure you're okay, _taichō_?" She looked at him, concerned. "You look pale."

Her _taichō_ merely nodded in response as he surveyed the scene. "There's nothing more we can do here. We should return to Seireitei and file our report."

She followed him as he left the clearing on foot. If asked, he would probably say that it was because she wasn't fully recovered yet, but she knew – they both knew – that he was too weak to use Flash Steps without wounding himself further.

They walked in a silence that seemed almost companionable to Matsumoto. It was only when they reached the gates of Seireitei that he spoke.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichō… if you don't mind me asking, when is your birthday?"

She couldn't help it – the corners of her lips twitched when she heard the question. "It's actually today, Hitsugaya-taichō."

He stopped for a moment, surprised. "I'm sorry it wound up like this."

"Oh, no, it's not your fault at all!" She laughed, albeit in a slightly forced manner.

They continued to walk. "I'll try to get you a present as soon as I can."

She looked at him, shocked that he had actually considered getting a present.

"There's no need, _taichō_ – "

One had to admit that her _taichō _was a highly stubborn person. "Matsumoto-fukutaichō, I – "

She had a sudden idea.

"You know what? If you really want to give me a birthday present, you can start with calling me something other than 'Matsumoto-fukutaichō'."

Her thoughts flashed back to what seemed like minutes ago, although it was probably closer to an hour. "Just plain old 'Matsumoto' is fine. That would be good enough as a present."

He sighed exasperatedly. "If you so insist… Matsumoto."

She grinned and hugged him, only to let go when his yelp of protest reminded her that he was still injured.

Her expression was sheepish. "Oops?"

He only shook his head as they continued the walk back to their division.

That was how it had been ever since – he would get her a present every year, no matter how busy he was.

And, of course, he always gave it to her without wishing her 'happy birthday'.

He always found other ways to say it; it seemed that he maintained a healthy distaste for the term 'happy birthday' which did not extend to other phrases with the same meaning.

The closest he had gotten to it was 'many happy returns', and even then, he said the word 'happy' like it was a foreign word.

But what he didn't say in words, he made up in gifts.

Her favourite was the bottle of sake he had given her eleven years ago – he insisted that Kyoraku-taichō was the one who had made him do it, but Matsumoto was inclined to believe that there were other reasons that didn't concern the sake-loving taichō.

Then, of course, there had been that year when he had given her a brush set. When she pointed out that she didn't do paperwork, he just shrugged and said that he could 'always use a second brush set'. She could almost swear that he was smiling when he said that.

Matsumoto wondered if he had realized that today was her birthday, yet again.

She doubted that he would actually forget.

Besides, it was far more fun to guess what he had gotten for her this year than think about what she would do to him if he actually forgot.

As always, her _taichō_ never disappointed.

She woke from her nap on the couch to discover a sheet of paper beside her, filled with his neat handwriting.

Her grin would have blinded anyone within a one-mile radius of herself.

It was her present – a promise from her _taichō _to help her train for _bankai_, as she had been long begging him to.

She rolled her eyes as she read the last line. _Congratulations on getting older._

Humming a happy tune, she got down to the business of deciding how to thank him this year.

There were many, many ways to say the same thing, after all.

The important part was whether you meant it.

She knew that he did.

And that was all that mattered.

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**END**

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2nd Author's Note: And yet again (because I insist on rubbing it in your face), congratulations on getting older. Hope you're going to get wiser, though that possibility is admittedly dim :D *runs away as Crystalscar comes after her with a _zanpak__utō_ - where did she get that from anyway?*

3rd (and last) Author's Note: And to everyone else - hope you liked the story, and please leave a review to tell me what you think! All birthday wishes can go to Crystalscar. (the link to her account can be found on my profile page if you would like to send presents. Sake is not encouraged, though. I don't actually want to know what happens when alcohol is added to a sugar high O.O ) Thanks for reading!


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